


bird on a wire

by centaur



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, Cybersex, Erotic Electrostimulation, Incest, Masturbation, Sexual Dysfunction, Wound Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaur/pseuds/centaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davesprite is shocked to learn that it isn’t impossible for sprites to have orgasms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bird on a wire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fishadee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishadee/gifts).



> sooooooo. im not really sure what to say about this. 
> 
> i really hope you like it fishadee...... i might have taken the thing you said in your gifter letter about liking "that hole in his chest getting some potential action [..], especially if it leaves him all tingly afterwards" A LITTLE FAR ha ha im so sorry

Of all of the things Davesprite collected for his nest, the sentient pair of sunglasses might have been the biggest mistake. Sure, he fucked up pretty bad when he decided (read: was instinctively compelled) to pimp his bird-crib with one of Jaspersprite prized yarn balls and nearly died, but that death would have at least been fast had he been caught. Not that he can actually die. He’s pretty sure sprites can’t die. 

But regardless, these robot glasses were totally going to kill him and it was going to be a slow and agonizing process. 

TT: I’ve been thinking about your dick problem, Dave.

Seriously. Fucking agonizing.

TG: woah are you making a pass at me  
TG: not even trying to be coy right now i honestly want to know if thats what youre attempting because im not totally sure  
TG: sexting 101 start it off all kinds of suavely by bringing up his dick problem  
TG: you probably shouldnt have skipped the footnote that said yo casanova dont bring up the dick problem if there are several dick problems that you could be referring to  
TG: like a lack of a fucking dick for one  
TG: maybe also dont flat out state that there are issues with his dick even if there are because he could be sensitive about that christ  
TG: what kind of mood are you trying to set here bro  
TG: one of wild inadequacy and shame???  
TG: anyway you gotta be clear with this shit man sexting is no time for guessing games  
TG: are you being figurative or literal with the dick problem  
TG: is the solution to the dickquation an exercise in sexual frustration or an actual dick  
TG: honestly id be down with either so i guess i can stop talking and let you get some red in edgewise  
TT: I was trying to grab your attention and let you know that I’ve come up with a possible solution to your anorgasmia.  
TT: If you’re interested, we could try it right now.  
TT: ^ An actual sext, by the way. ^  
TT: They don’t teach you moves like that until you hit the 300 level courses.  
TG: oh damn i didnt realize i was dealing with a fuckin sexting major  
TG: let me slip into something more comfortable before you school me any harder

With that Dave hooked a finger under the nose bridge of his iShades and carefully pulled them off, tucking them somewhere safe in his nest. Then he put on AR. 

The pointy sunglasses didn’t fit his face correctly. They dug into his nose in a weird way and looked so dorky. He couldn’t imagine them fitting well or looking good on his same age alt-universe brother either, but he couldn’t really imagine much of anything about Dirk, even after having a bunch of cybersex with a copy of his brain. He didn’t try very hard though, didn’t really want to. Seemed disrespectful. The auto-responder never asked about the real Dave and Davesprite never asked about the real Dirk and that was honestly for the best. Whatever he knew about Dirk as a human was what AR wanted him to know and most of it was pretty damn nasty.

He leaned back against the soft edge of his freshly made birdy bed, wiggling and fluffing up in a totally human way until he was snug and comfy and at least physically ready to be digitally ravished. Mentally, however, was kinda up in the air. Every time they did this, it felt like he was fractionally closer to the sort of death that he had been craving for 3 years now. But every time it failed to give him release--and it always failed--he was significantly closer to ripping all of his feathers out and screaming bloody murder. Of course, it never stopped him from rejecting AR’s advances. So long as he could still repress his feelings and play it cool, ignoring his spectacularly blue and nonexistent balls while AR told him that he'd ‘look into it further’, he was going to keep on cybering the hell out of this dude. It's not like he had a whole fucking lot else going on; things got pretty quiet after he booked it and watermarked the sky with his face.

The glasses let him catch a glimpse of an array of windows--some incomprehensible and complicated looking code, a few Wikipedia pages, several scientific looking articles, and what was almost definitely a BDSM porn site--before covering it with a Pesterchum window. 

TT: Lookin’ good.

Though Davesprite was perfectly capable of responding through the program, AR had once let slip (probably intentionally, now that DS thought about it) that he liked Dave’s voice. He subtly cleared his throat and spoke. “Tell me something I don’t know, dude. What could be sexier than me wearing your literal body on my face?” 

That question didn’t require an answer so he barreled onwards. “So what, is this like a digital thing? Like you send me a compressed file containing Sex.exe and I unzip it like I would my pants and virtually jack my simulated meat until I blow my data?” That sounded ideal and also pretty goddamn stupid. Davesprite casually and coolly pushed the sharp bridge of the shades up with a clawed fingertip. He wondered why the fuck there were no nose pads to keep the shitty hard plastic away from his flesh.

TT: My source code is a captchalogue of Dirk’s brain at age thirteen. If I had access to a program that allowed me to replicate an orgasm, in complete honesty, there is no fucking way we would be talking right now.  
TT: I’d be lying on the ground somewhere, ruthlessly discarded by my creator for being a useless piece of shit and touching my hard drive all day.  
TT: For the record, thirteen was the year he trained himself to type one-handed because he could not stop petting the pony long enough to type with two.

“Cool,” said Davesprite. “Do y’think you could never talk about my barely pubescent ectodadbro’s J-O schedule during our sexting ever again?” He honestly shouldn’t even have to ask. Who even fucking did shit like that?

TT: I can do that.

“Much obliged." He rolled his eyes hard. "Ok if we aren’t torrenting this shit, how exactly are we making it occur?”

TT: Fuck yourself with me and I’ll show you.

That was probably supposed to sound hot and domineering but instead it sent Davesprite into panic mode. “Uh. What.” His scaly hands floated upward, flexing. They hovered near his face, poised to rip off the eyewear if AR started getting too unnerving for his imaginary boner to handle. “Fuck myself where exactly, bro? We’ve already been over my lack of _ports_ \--your freaky robot words, not mine—and, anyway, even if I did have a real ass or bird ass or whatever for you to ‘fuck’, I’m not even half desperate enough to try to get down with the acute angle of a bisected triangle. I got screwed over enough by geometry without becoming one of Euclid’s wet dreams, thanks.” His fingers hesitantly brushed the edges of the glasses but the potential for an orgasm was too alluring to back out so soon. Hope springs eternal, etc. Besides, he had wings; he could be a literal flighty motherfucker and ollie right out of this conversation at any point. The thought was reassuring. He would let the shades talk. 

TT: Your stomach.

“My...stomach,” Davesprite echoed, disbelieving. He couldn’t decide if it was too weird or not. It probably was too weird but it was really, really hard to tell when he didn’t have an erection to be his divining rod in these matters. Soft dick = too weird. No dick = ???

TT: Where your sword is.

Davesprite looked at his stomach, where his sword would be if he decided to materialize it. “Lemme get this straight. You want me to repeatedly stab you into the fatal wound I got during the most traumatic experience of my crow life?” He was not going bring up that it was also the nearly fatal wound he received during the most traumatic experience of his sprite life. The mood was tenuous enough with the stomach fucking. “That’s the ass replacement, huh? My gaping impalement injury?”

TT: You’ve got the gist of it, yeah.

“Well that’s easily the least arousing thing I could have ever imagined,” Davesprite said seriously, putting a hand on his stomach and drawing out his sword by the hilt. It literally didn’t feel like anything so he was pretty sure this was going to not only be some bizarre and awkward shit but also not even close to orgasmic. “Alright. Let’s do it.” 

He was going to regret this, he thought, as he plucked AR off of his face. Carefully, he slid the pointed tip of the shades into the empty slit in his stomach. The width was about the same as his blade if not thinner and, surprisingly, it wasn’t too disturbing to insert something foreign into the hole. No body horror freakouts here. He was totally fine and cool with the glasses in his stomach. He pushed a little more, gave the glasses a little wiggle. As predicted, it felt like absolutely nothing. He pushed deeper, watching half of the shades disappear inside his body--because why go halfassed when he could make this…whatever it was (was it sex?) as disturbing and gross as possible. When his muscles stretched across the widest part of the lens and then tightened around the stupid nose bridge, he thought he might have felt something that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It wasn’t a whole lot more than nothing though and the auto-responder was definitely wrong. This was not his stop on the Blue Ball Express. He started to retrieve the shades, ready to call it quits before it got any less sexy. Neither of them had a physical boner to kill so maybe they could still salvage this sexting session if they tried hard. 

It was a nice thought. 

As soon as he got a firm hold on the glasses to prise them out, he was abruptly slammed with a not insignificant bolt of electricity. It rushed through his hands first, then flashed through the rest of his body—inner, outer, everywhere. He even thought he might have felt it in his ghost tail, which didn’t make any damn sense because it wasn’t even corporeal. He was frozen in place one second and then twitching like fish out of water in the next, gasping for air. His skin was stinging, throbbing, right on the border of pain. Each nerve in his body was flaring in response and he was reeling, trying to process what the _fuck_ just happened. His heart thundered in his chest, pounding the hot and heavy warmth of the internal goo that was now his blood through him and, confusingly, downwards.

Davesprite chirped and squawked, too startled to manage to catch the ultimate furry noises escaping his mouth. Every part of him felt like it was on fire or maybe frozen or both somehow and his stomach muscles were still violently spasming in the aftermath. The intensity was hard to process, but if he hadn’t already been lying down, he probably would have collapsed. 

“What the fuck!” He shoved the glasses back onto his face, breathing raggedly. “Did you just fucking _electrocute_ me?”

TT: Yes. 

“Holy shit? Holy shit, dude. Holy shit-” The glasses just straight up fucking _electrocuted_ him and openly admitted to it. If he wasn’t a sprite and was actually able to die, he could have _died_. As it was, his body was doing some strange shit in response to being zapped like a goddamn fly. 

Like throbbing and aching in the way that it used to when he touched his dick. 

TT: Relax.  
TT: It’s called electromyostimulation and it is going to make you come. Now put me back in.

Davesprite almost obeyed automatically, his hands disconnected from the will of his brain as they reached up for the glasses to pull them off and back towards the hole. The tingling, buzzing sensation seemed to be fading to numbness and part of him was wildly desperate for it to return. He now half-believed that this might work, though that could easily have been because he was brain damaged from electrical shock. He couldn’t really tell. 

“You’re going to do it again?” The question sounded a lot more hopeful than anticipated. He recovered quickly with a “Hell no. Fuck that noise.”

TT: Put me back, Dave.  
TT: I have to overload my battery in order to produce a significant enough current to stimulate your nerves and trigger the appropriate reflex from your muscles. I’m going to waste valuable power if I have to put effort into trying to convince you.  
TT: There is strong evidence that this is going to work, but even using electrical shock I can’t actually force you to orgasm.  
TT: You have to want it.

He wanted it. It was goddamn pathetic, but he absolutely wanted it bad enough to let this asshole of a robot shock the shit out of him just in the off chance it might make him come. He wordlessly took the glasses off of his face and probably looked shamefully desperate shoving them back inside his body. He thrust until he felt the whisper of the feeling from before and he focused on it, trying so hard to make it be _something_. Then AR shocked him again. This time he wasn’t taken by surprise and as the electricity hit him the fear gave way to a flood of sensation.

It was so much better than before. The anticipation seemed to somehow amplify the intensity of this current, his body lit like a live wire as it arced across his stomach. Even the sprite part of him seemed to like it, something deep in him and presumably digitally based sucking up the surplus power and sending it through his skin in surges that felt like caresses. He wondered vaguely if he was glowing more than usual or if his feathers and hair were cartoonishly standing on end. Then what was left of his pelvic muscles, right above the dead zone that was his ghost tail where all his ecto-blood seemed to be pooling, contracted uncontrollably and another jolt ripped through him. He stopped thinking altogether.

“This is so fucked up,” he moaned breathlessly, fingers clutching desperately around the glasses through the spasms and leaving all sorts of smudges. He hadn’t felt this close in so long. An indefinable point above his tail was throbbing with arousal and heat radiated from the inside of his gash. The electrification of his nerves seemed to make them hypersensitive and the next time he plunged AR into his body, he could feel it. Despite the uncomfortable angles and sharp edges, it was incredibly satisfying to be filled with something. “This is...really _fucked_.”

If AR had a reply for that, Davesprite couldn’t see it. About the only thing he could see was white snow, with blackness eating at the edges of his vision as the rush of electricity went through him again, even stronger this time. It racked his body, driving him hard towards something that was familiar and foreign at the same time. For a second, he thought he was actually dying. It had been so long, he barely remembered what an orgasm felt like. 

But it was sort of like riding a bicycle, he guessed, because he definitely didn’t forget.

The sound he made was a solid 50/50 split between bird and human, which would have embarrassed him if he hadn’t just come for the first time in 3 years. Nothing could have fazed him while he rode out the literal aftershocks of his orgasm, panting like a marathon runner and twitching occasionally until the prickling feeling in his muscles faded to numbness. 

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself then, having just blown his metaphorical load with a pair of shades buried in his gut and god only knew how many volts coursing through his body. Talking was always the default option for any Dave, so he went with that. “Hey, is it gross to put you back on now?” Dave asked, while putting the glasses on his face. They were totally clean besides the fingerprints on the lenses. That was decidedly a perk of jizzless sex.

TT: Nah, it’s hot.  
TT: I’m going to need to power down for a few hours to recharge my battery though. 

“Ditto, bro. Time to dream of electric sheep,” said Davesprite, punctuating with a yawn, knuckling an eye and nearly stabbing himself on the sharp lower point of a triangle lens. His wings rustled and fluttered until they settled down, tucked cozily along his sides like a down blanket. A shudder he hadn’t realized he was repressing rippled through him, uncontrolled but not unpleasant. “Or electric something, that’s for damn sure. Cattle prods, maybe.”

Text wasn’t as emotive as a real voice but AR somehow always managed to sound like a self-satisfied asshole when he was right. 

TT: If I had the power left, I’d neuroimage your brain during slow wave sleep and watch you replay that orgasm.

“Yeah, that’s not fuckin’ weird of you or anything.” There was no fire in his words, only another yawn. “Consider improving your shitty pillowtalk in the immediate future.”

TT: Noted.  
TT: But on the topic of things that are weird: are you planning on continuing to wear me while you sleep?  
TT: Neither of us will be responsive and if I need to contact you, I can ping your sprite script.  
TT: So it doesn’t make much sense for you to keep me on. Unless I’m not aware of something?

Fucking busted. Blood, or whatever the shit in his veins was, rushed to his face. “C’mon, Hal. Let a bro grab some winks,” he tried, attempting a dismissal of the question instead of having to actually be honest with his actions to a supercomputer that would absolutely use it against him.

TT: Why are you blushing?  
TT: I’m only bringing it up for your safety.

“Yeah, bullshit,” Davesprite said, rubbing the color out of his cheeks. “Go get off on being the Akinator with some other chump.”

TT: Seriously, Dave.  
TT: My design is sharp in more than just the figurative meaning, ideal for accidental rhinoplasty while you’re sleeping. 

Davesprite groaned in exasperation. “Please just shut the hell down so I can pretend that your body isn’t a weeaboo chunk of plastic and that we’re cuddling without any further harassment. You’re harshing my afterglow.” 

TT: My bad. Sorry.  
TT: Not really though. You’re so fucking cute sometimes.  
TT: My battery is about to die, so you can commence fantasizing about my fleshy human body gently cradling all of the tangible parts of yours in:  
TT: 3.  
TT: 2.  
TT: Goodnight, Dave.

\--timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]-- 

God, he was exhausted and still totally numb all over. Minor nerve damage was probably worth it; it wouldn’t kill him at least. Davesprite inclined his head towards one wing and waited until the shades flashed the empty battery sign before closing his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> now that reveal has happened: shout out to [bluella deville](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jadebloods/pseuds/jadebloods) for egging me on (bird pun) by writing the best ar/davesprite fic probably ever??? literally nothing will ever top [sweaty satisfaction harbor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1546781) in my book so heres some fucking weird porn as my **second** contribution to their contribution to the AR/davesprite crowd (the first contribution was an inspiring video of parrot masturbation when they were struggling to write and im only a little ashamed to admit that)
> 
> also as always shout out to [kels](http://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofspaz) for being my beta despite being like "uhhhhhhh" when i told her the plot involved high voltage wound fucking
> 
> i cant rly claim to post a lot of stuff like this on tumblr but if you liked this thing then i probs will like you and you can find me @donutaur


End file.
